Starlight, Starbright
by i'mnotcrazy82
Summary: It's been 6 years since Lisa Cuddy left PPTH after House drove a car through her living room.  Packing her bags, she started a new life somewhere else.  Now, after her daughter wished upon a star, is it time for someone from her past to reenter her life?
1. Chapter 1

**Starlight, Starbright  
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_~ chapter one _~

The crisp autumn air burned Lisa Cuddy's lungs as she ran along the stone walk as fast as her three inch heels and pencil skirt would allow her to. Nearly two decades of working in hospital administration had trained her well. Thick beams of fading sunlight dappled the well landscaped path, breaking free from the thick gray clouds that hung low in the sky, the air fresh from the rain that had fallen earlier in the day. Her yoga toned legs flexed easily as she took the well worn steps leading to the old stone building two at a time. Nearly breathless, she gripped the cold, brass handle of the old oak door, wrenching it open with a huff. Her normally stiff shoulders sagged at the sight that appeared before her.

Rachel Cuddy glared sullenly at the ground, her lower lip thrust out in an angry pout. Cuddy watched as her chubby, argyle-patterned socked legs swung violently under the stone bench, Rachel's mary jane enclosed feet clicking against the tile floor with every pass, like a frenzied pendulum. Her hands gripped the edge of the bench tightly, and her thick, dark hair curtain hid her face from Cuddy. "Rachel, honey, I'm..."

"I wanna go home," the little girl hopped off the bench, then rushed around Cuddy in a frenzy, pushing the large doors open. Cuddy heard them shut behind her with an echoing slam, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It had been a hellacious day at New Haven Mercy, the hospital Cuddy had taken over after leaving Princeton-Plainsboro. She ran her fingers through her dark hair, then sighed. It wasn't the first time she had been late picking her daughter up from the after school latchkey program, and it certainly wouldn't be the last; not with her job, but it never got easier. Biting her lip, she turned around, and followed the same path her daughter had beaten through the large doors.

It took her a few minutes to walk to her car. She should have walked a little faster, but she knew Rachel needed a few moments to cool off. The eight-year old was already sitting in the passenger seat, her seat belt fastened, and her head bowed, her dark hair cascading around her round face, her bright blue eyes focused on whatever she was holding in her lap. Cuddy watched her for a moment, studying her daughter before adjusting the shoulder strap of her purse and walking steadfastly to her car, reading herself for a battle.

Rachel didn't even look up as she slid into the passenger seat, buckling her own seat belt while slipping the key into the ignition. The car purred to a start, and Cuddy pulled out into the slick New Haven streets. After a few moments of driving in tense silence, Cuddy broke first. "Do you want to go to Alfredo's for dinner tonight?" she asked, tempting her daughter into speaking by mentioning the little girl's favorite restaurant. _If only it was that easy_, she thought to herself as she waited for a response.

Rachel twitched her shoulder, then resumed reading. The little girl had an insatiable appetite for books, and _The Indian in the Cupboard _lay open across her green and navy plaid skirted lap. Cuddy licked her lips. "How about _ Taco Gordo's_ then?"

"I want McDonald's," Rachel responded, trying and failing to be nonchalant. Cuddy shuddered, knowing that the little girl was punishing her; she hated fast food in general, and McDonald's was easily her least favorite of the big chains.

"Rachel," she began, briefly closing her eyes as they pulled to a stop at a red light. The clouds had grown thicker again, and more rain threatened.

"You were late," Rachel said matter of factly, not looking up from the page, though the fierce way she turned the page belied how angry she was at her mom. "You were late, and I get McDonald's." She finally lifted her eyes away from the book and glared blue ice chips at her mother. "And a Coke. And a chocolate sundae," she demanded before returning to her book.

"Rachel," Cuddy sighed, hoping to negotiate.

"You were late!" Rachel wouldn't budge on her position. "And you pinky promised that it wouldn't happen again." She slumped back in the gray upholstered seat, suddenly looking small and vulnerable. "You never keep your pinky promises," she said quietly, pouting again.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. _I stood up to the six-foot four three hundred pound head of maintenance today with out batting an eye. I've taking on drug reps and insurance lawyer without even breaking a sweat. I had thirty people storm into my office today threatening lawsuits and one person spit in my face over a malpractice suit. Yet, I can't negotiate with a tiny eight-year old little girl. "_Okay," she sighed. "But no Coke," she gave her daughter a stern look. "You don't need sugar and caffine, not this close to bedtime."

Rachel returned her look until the honking behind them made them break off the standoff. The light had turned green. "Okay," Rachel finally huffed out, drawing out the word. "I want a milkshake instead then," she brokered in a non-negotiable tone, going back to her book. "You promised."

Cuddy chewed on the inside of her cheek while she eased into the turning lane that would take them to McDonald's. This, at least, would be a promise she could keep.

**[H] [H] [H]**

Rachel Cuddy primly dipped her apple slices into the thick caramel sauce that had come with them in her happy meal. Her mother had insisted on the apple slices over the greasy french fries, which, to be honest, Rachel had been happy about. She didn't particularly care for McDonald's, but she'd never tell her mother that. This was her punishment for being late, again. At least she didn't make Nanny Ginni come and pick her up. She didn't speak to her mother for a week after that.

Rachel turned the page in her book. She was getting to her favorite part, when Little Bear taught Omri how to make a wigwam. She wanted to know how to make a wigwam, and to hunt and live in the woods. That would be a lot of fun.

"Rachel, honey," her mom said, picking at her limp salad. Her mother didn't eat meat, but atleast she didn't make Rachel not eat meat. Rachel loved chicken nuggets, even the ones from McDonald's. "How was school today."

Rachel chewed her apple slice slowly. She liked school, she really did, especially the different subjects. She liked them all – Math, Social Studies, Art, Science, Reading and Spelling – they were all fun, and she liked to learn. She didn't like Music, though, or Gym. She hated gym. Especially when they played games, she was always picked last, being small and kind of chubby. Her mom said it was just baby fat, and it would go away when she went through another growth spurt, but Rachel didn't believe her. It wasn't that her lied to her a lot, it was just that Rachel didn't ever see herself being as pretty as her mom.

"School was fine," she finally said, swallowing the apple. "I got a 98 on my multiplication quiz," she said, grinning and showing off her latest missing tooth. "I also got a hundred on Science Quiz."

"That's good, honey," Cuddy said, proudly. "Anything else?"

Rachel thought about it, spinning her remaining chicken nugget around and around in its little cardboard box while she chewed on her lip. Finally, she just blurted it out. "Jami Conner told me that you don't love me like a real mommy does 'cause I didn't come out of your belly." It had been bothering her all day, and then her mom had been late again, and that had to prove that Jami was right, because a real mommy wouldn't be late in picking her up all the time.

Her mom looked shocked, her fork full of lettuce mix forgotten as she stared in shock at her daughter. "Why did she say that?" her mom asked, eyes wide.

"'Cause I got an answer right in Math, and I won the Spelling test this week. Jami just said I was a know-it-all show off, and I told her she was wrong." Rachel pouted a little. "I don't _like_ being a know-it-all, mommy," she shrugged, hopelessly.

Her mom put her fork down, then scooted around the table to sit on the bench with Rachel, giving her daughter a fierce hug. Rachel had known for as long as she could remember that she wasn't her mommy's real daughter, that her real mommy had been really, really sick when Rachel had been born, and both her mommy and daddy had loved her a bunch, but her daddy couldn't take care of Rachel on his own after her real mommy died, so he had given her to her new mommy so her new mommy could take care of her. Her mommy put her arms around her. "Rachel, honey, I love you more than you could even ever know. I love you so much," her mom hugged her tightly. "And what Jami Conner thinks doesn't matter," she said, kissing the top of Rachel's hair. "What do you think? Do you like getting good grades?"

Rachel nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. I like learning things, too. Except piano. Do I still have to keep learning piano?" She wasn't very good at it, with her small hands and chubby fingers.

Her mother laughed. "Nice try," she said with a grin. "But you're still going to piano lessons."

"Hmpf," Rachel half snorted as her mother moved to the bench across the table. "Not fair. I hate piano," she pouted.

Her mother grinned, "you'll thank me later," she smiled, then checked her watch. "Finish your chicken and apples and then we'll go and get ice cream at the Purple Cow."

Rachel's eyes grew wide. "Really?" she asked, excited. The Purple Cow had the _best_ ice cream in New Haven, with bubble gum in it, and there was even chocolate ice cream with _gummi worms_. She reached for the last nugget and began to happily munch on it, after dipping it into the sweet and sour sauce packet she had gotten with it.

"Really," her mom swept her bangs out of her face, and then watched her daughter eat, happiness glowing from Rachel's face, wishing she could make her daughter happier.

**[H] [H] [H]**

Later that night, after a double scoop of Bubble Gum _and _Superman ice cream, Lisa tucked her daughter into bed. After a kiss goodnight, she turned out the lights, and slipped in the hall. She almost shut the door completely when she heard the sheets rustle. She heard Rachel slip out of the bed, so she pressed her ear to the door, and, feeling slightly guilty, she listened.

Rachel's room was located on the top floor of their house, which she loved. When she was little, even more littler than she was now, her mommy had decorated her room in pinks and whites, with lots of dolls. Over the past summer, her mother had allowed her to decorate her room, and she had chosen a space theme. She loved the planets and stars, and would watch tv shows on PBS and the History channel on the subject with sheer fascination. Her favorite stories had to do with planets and spacemen and stars. She wanted to be an astronaut when she grew up.

Every night, since she could remember, she would toss the covers her mom had spent so much time tucking her into off, then tiptoe over to the wide bay window, where she had a sorta good view of the sky. She would then scan the sky unit she could see the brightest star, and she would make a wish. On nights like tonight, where the sky was shrouded by the clouds (she liked the word shrouded; she won the schools spelling bee for her grade last year by spelling it right), she looked for the spot where she knew the brightest stars usually were, and she made her wish.

She didn't have a large family, a few cousins, her Aunt Julie, and her Grammy, but there was one part of her life that she seemed to miss the most.

She wanted a Daddy.

Uncle Jimmy tried to do things with her that Daddy's did, like take her out for ice cream when he was in town to visit her mommy, or take her to a carnival once or twice, but he didn't visit very often, and besides, he wasn't married to mommy – he was just her friend, so he couldn't be a Daddy. Her friends had stopped asking her about her Daddy a long time ago, since she didn't have on. (_But _**everyone**_ has a Daddy!_ she remembered Courtney sighing, frustrated with Rachel's answer.

So every night, she would pick out the brightest star in the sky, then she would close her eyes really, really tight – so tight her face hurt, and she would cross her fingers and her toes. Her cousin Abbi told her that it wouldn't work unless her fingers _and_ toes were crossed, then she would recite the words.

_Starlight, starbright._

_First star I see tonight._

_Wish I may, wish I might,_

_to have this wish I wish tonight._

She drew in a deep breath, trying to touch the magic in the moment, then, with all her might, she whispered, "I want a Daddy." She said it outloud, but not too loud. If it was too loud, then the wish couldn't come true. Abbi said the stars could hear whispers, even after Rachel had matter of factly told her that the stars were just a giant ball of gas (she'd just seen a show on PBS that talked about it). (_'Nuh-uh," Abbi had shook her head. "The stars can hear wishes, and if you wish hard enough, and in the right way, then they come true!" Abbi had been six when she had told Rachel this, and a whole two years and eight months older, so Abbi _**had**_ to be right...)_

So she wished, and wished her hardest, and she felt something crackle in the air... She wanted a Daddy more than anything in the world... And somehow, she knew a Daddy would also make her Mommy happy, and that was important, too. She opened her eyes, and she swore that the star she wished on grew brighter, then it _winked_ at her. Smiling, she hopped off the little bench that jutted out from the big bay window, then she crawled into bed. It _had_ to work tonight...

**[H] [H] [H]**

Lisa Cuddy heard her daughter's prayer, and tears stung her eyes. "Oh, baby," she breathed. She chewed her lip, and debated about going in and setting her daughter straight – no amount of wishing on stars would make things happen, but somehow, she felt something hold her back. Little girls needed to be able to dream, she decided, because life eventually would teach them that dreams rarely, if ever came true...


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel sat in the cushy chair in her mommy's outer office, waiting patiently, her chubby legs were swinging like a pendulum keeping time. She was tired, and her head hurt, but still she sat there, trying to read her book. Her nanny, had to leave early for a family emergency, Rachel had overheard Ginni telling her mommy that her own mommy had a stroke, so Rachel had to come to work with her mommy, since there was no one to take care of her. School was out the next few days for parent-teacher conferences, so Rachel didn't have to go to school, but there just wasn't much kid-stuff in her mommy's office.

She rubbed at her eyes, grimacing a little. Her head had been bothering her the past few hours, and she felt very tired. She had to wake up really early to go to work with her mother, and she really just wanted to take a nap. She yawned, widely, not worried if anyone saw her. She knew that her mother had the main nurse, who's name was Judi with an I, looking over her, making sure she stayed out of trouble until her mother got out of her meeting. Her mother had a lot of meetings.

She had reread the same paragraph in her Harry Potter book several times, stifling another yawn. It was the part where Harry finds out he's a wizard and gets to leave those wretched Dursleys. She dashed at her eyes again with her hand, hoping they would stop being so heavy. She was becoming very bored, and she wanted to go home and watch tv or a movie, like Cars. Watching Cars would be good. She was thinking about Cars, especially Mater, she liked Mater, when a tall shadow fell over her. She looked up, craning her neck to see the tall man's face.

He seemed familiar. He was very thin, with bristly whiskers covering his hollow cheeks and jaw. His face was heavy with lines, he kinda looked like the pictures of Abraham Lincoln she'd seen in her history books, except he didn't look kind, he kinda looked mean, with a scowl. His right hand gripped a long cane, and he _leaned_ on it, taking the weight off of his right leg. He wore a wrinkled suit jacket and an untucked button shirt and jeans, and he wore Nike's. He had the most brilliant blue eyes she'd ever seen, and she felt an odd feeling of familiarity come over her; she knew she'd seen him before, but didn't know where.

He towered over her, shifting his weight uncomfortably; his leg must really hurt. "_You're_ not the Chief Administrator," he sneered at her.

She should be scared of him, she normally _would _be scared of him, but, for a reason she couldn't put her finger on, she wasn't. "Of _course_ I'm not," she answered back, rolling her eyes. "I'm only _eight_."

His eyes grew wide, as if he'd seen a ghost, then, as quickly as he looked surprised, he recovered, his features taking on the mask of feigned indifference. He _hmpfed, _then took a seat beside her, studying her like she was an alien from another planet. He folded his long-fingered hands over the polished wooden handle of his cane. "If you're eight," he said, staring absently at the wall in front of him them, "then why aren't you in school?"

"Parent-teacher conferences," she answered him matter-of-factly, warming to his game. "Why do _you _want to see my mom." She shook her straight, dark hair back, giving him an authoritative look.

"Your _mom_ is the Chief Administrator?" he asked, mimicking her childish cadence.

"Yup," she said proudly. "And you never said why you wanted to see her." She narrowed her eyes, and started shaking her right foot in an imitation of how her mother would tap it, waiting for his answer.

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the loud sound of heels rapidly clicking across the floor. "Rachel, honey," her mom sounded out of breath. "Sorry my meeting ran ov-. What the hell are you doing here." Lisa had rounded around the corner, and had spotted the man sitting next to her on the seat. Rachel noticed a raging storm of mixed emotions that she didn't understand cross both of their faces. "Rachel," her mother finally called, her voice straining. Rachel bit her lip; she thought she was in trouble. She grabbed the bookbag that had been nestled under her chair, then she hurried, red-faced, over to her mother. "Judi," her mother called, "take her to the cafeteria for lunch." Judi came over and took Rachel by the hand, while Lisa handed her a few bills from her blazer pocket. "I'll be there in a moment. Judi nodded, then hustled Rachel toward the cafeteria, while Rachel kept trying to look back at her mom and the man standing there.

[H] [H] [H]

He was the last thing she expected to see.

And her blood boiled at the thought of him talking to her daughter. Especially after all this time. She made sure Rachel was safely out of the area; she didn't want her daughter to see this, whatever it was going to be. Once they were alone, she briskly walked into her office, knowing that he would follow her. She stood, staring out the large window on the opposite wall of the door, her hands on her hips. So many emotions broiled with in her. She wanted to slap him, kiss him, hit him, scream at him, all at once. The long six years hadn't tempered the feelings she felt towards him at all.

She knew she shouldn't be left alone with him, but she didn't want any witnesses to this reunion, either. She heard the door shut behind her, and she let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in. Not turning around, she kept her gaze on the lacy patterns the steady falling rain were creating on her window; the weather was turning colder, and they were calling for snow later on tonight.

The temperature dropped in the room, and she wanted to wrap her arms around her body and shiver. Instead she stood straight and rigid. "Give me one good reason not to call security on you," she said, her tone cold and authoritative. He was an invader in the kingdom she had made around herself; the kingdom she had created without him in it.

The cane tapped out a message in morse code; she imagined she could feel the vibrations through the plush burgundy carpet. "So," came the oh so familiar voice, a voice she had hoped to never hear again. A voice so filled with hurt and scorn and dismay. A voice filled with regret and self loathing. "No 'hi, how ya doing?' No, 'let's get some coffee and catch up?'"

She still didn't turn around, didn't want to turn around. She didn't want to look at him. "You drove a car into my living room," she responded in a cool dry tone. "Not the kind of thing I want to reminisce over coffee and scones about." The rain was falling a little harder. She found herself concentrating on the drops. "Why are you here?" she asked, finally.

She could fell him brooding. "I need a job," he finally admitted.

"No," she breathed. She would not go through this again, she would not allow him to manipulate and bully her. She shook her head, turning around. "No. Now leave, before I call security on you," her gray eyes narrowed as she saw him, hardening with resolve. "Go, now."

His face fell for a moment, then hardened into his own mask again. "You _need_ me," his bright blue eyes were lasers into her own. He took a step forward. "Your hospital is only a fraction of how great it could be without me."

She instinctively took a step back, then she shook her head and laughed bitterly. "If the last six years have taught me _anything_ it's how I don't need you." She gave him a brittle smile. "I have everything I ever wanted, without dealing with your headaches, your issues. If you want a job, then you'll have to look elsewhere, House. I've given you enough second chances."

She strode past him with a confidence that she really didn't feel. She paused at the door, then turned for one last look. "You're good, House, but it's not my problem you can't get yourself hired at a blood bank." With that parting shot, she strode out the door, leaving him alone in her office.

[H] [H] [H]

That night, at dinner, Rachel was picking at her food. She wasn't really hungry, and she had felt bad all day. Her head still hurt a little, and her stomach was queasy. She didn't know who the man outside of her mom's office was, but she knew her mother had known him from somewhere, just by the way she reacted to him. As much as Rachel tried to rack her own memory for any indication that she knew the man, she _knew_ her mom knew him, so she should know him, too.

"Are you okay, Rachel," her mom frowned at her with concern. Rachel shook her head no, but that didn't stop her mom from standing up and coming around the table to Rachel's seat. Rachel squirmed as she put her icy hand on Rachel's forehead. "Honey, her mom's brow furrowed as she moved her hand from Rachel's forehead to her cheek. "You're burning up!" Her mom left the room, then came back with a thermometer. Rachel sat there, waiting for the beep. "Ninety-nine," her mom announced, then she began the inquisition. "Does your tummy hurt?" Rachel nodded. "Your head?" Again, she nodded. "Do you have a cough?" A shake no. "Does your head feel stuffy?" A shake yes.

Her mom continued with the questions, and finally she stood up. Rachel pushed the plate of food away from her, and she rubbed at her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and go to sleep. A moment later, her mom came back with a bottle of yucky medicine. Rachel made a face, but took the cap full of sticky red syrup that was _supposed_ to taste like cherries. It didn't, and it made her belly hurt worse. Her mom took her upstairs and let her change into her pajamas. She curled up under her blanket, the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling winking down on her. Right before she fell asleep, she whispered her little prayer, imaging that the stars overhead were the real ones. _Maybe the man is my daddy,_ she thought as she drifted off to sleep.


End file.
